Scythe: A Memoir of Regret Part 1
by Dracon Normanus
Summary: I love Scythe. I thought it might be interesting to explore the character from his own perspective. This is my first attempt at Fable Fanfic. Please Enjoy.


Scythe

A Memoir of Regret

I have used many approximate dates in this journal, in the hopes of communicating with my distant descendants. what follows is for all intents and purposes, a letter of intent. I have seen and done many terrible things and many that some might consider good in my long years. in all this time one thing has remained the same, I love this land. Albion. My Albion. and as long as I walk it, I will do what I can, and sometimes what I must, to see that it continues.

many hundreds of years ago, I was a blacksmith. perhaps a great one, I do not remember. what I do know for certain is that when I was young my people believed that there were gods who walked among men in Albion. some served one, others another. and many simply attempted to ignore them and lead normal lives. the most fearsome of these deities were a triad known as The Court. The Knight, The Queen, and Jack.

for thousands of years before me, men had told tales of these creatures, some had even worshipped them. but it had been many centuries since they had deigned to walk among us mortals. I first began to hear rumors that they had been seen in Albion when I was a blacksmiths apprentice, and over the years rumors continued to spread that the court had indeed returned to Albion and was in fact causing all manner of dark and terrible things to occur. as the years passed these rumors became increasingly frequent until they became fact.

the Court had indeed come to Albion, and drawing on their mystical powers had begun to reshape the world. dragons, which had not been seen in Albion before, became an increasing threat and many other dark creatures and curses began to scourge the land. eventually all of Albion would have joined the void.

word had spread among the towns that my forge was a place where weapons of great power could be forged. I had secretly been using my own abilities with what would later come to be called "Will" to create better and more powerful weapons than my competitors. it may have been unfair, but it worked to my advantage.

I used my power for good as well. many times I defended my people from evils so great they did not yet have names. my people loved me, but it was not enough. I regret to say that I was foolish enough to believe that I could defeat the Court. I began to study, ancient tomes and books of lore. magic's that had not been seen or thought of in generations. I thought myself powerful.

then one night, while reading I was taken. I knew at once that I was no longer in Albion. I had been transported to The Void. And before me sat Jack. he spoke to me of great and lofty things, of the end of chaos and the rule of order, he looked at me and it felt as though he could see my soul. he held out a beautiful sword and offered it to me as payment for my assistance in conquering the people of Albion. My people. my Albion. I refused. I was imprisoned in the void. Jack placed the sword where I could see it but could not reach it. Tempting me.

After many days, or years I cannot tell, I gathered all of my strength and broke my bonds. I took the sword and used it to cut the void and return to Albion. the sword spoke to me then, calling itself the sword of Aeons. it offered to help me destroy the court. its price was high, but I was desperate and obsessed. I agreed and together we ascended to what was then the highest mountain in Albion, Mount Ruon. There I called upon the court using my power to summon them forth to do battle.

The Knight of Blades appeared and attacked me, but I slew him swiftly with the sword that was my ally. his body was destroyed and his soul scattered never to return. jack appeared shortly afterwards and fought me ferociously, but finally I bested him breaking his body into pieces. His soul however escaped, returning to the void to hide and regain its strength.

The Queen of Blades appeared and we fought. for many weeks we battled all across Albion and much that I had loved was destroyed and remade. mountains fell and oceans opened up, and the natural cycle of the world was altered. ultimately, the queen fell before me. and I thought myself the greatest of all warriors.

Albion was indeed free, but my war on the Court had wrought untold devastation on the land I had loved. the people had become even more timid and fearful and the chaos of the world had increased. I longed for order, and being the strongest I created it.

I declared myself Archon, and built a kingdom in Albion. my will built it, and my will maintained it. I had brought peace to my people and my land. and I had truly yet to realize what it had cost me.

after I had ruled Albion for many years, I began to understand what the sword was. It was a thing of the void, just as evil as its master had been. it had used my desire for peace against me and bonded my soul to itself. as long as the sword held sway, Albion might be at peace but I would never know it. I opened a portal to the void and returned the sword, locking the portal with a series of locks and a key that could only be used by me or my descendants. it might have been simply wiser to destroy the sword but even after many years I was still not wise.

once the sword was gone, I left my kingdom to my child and disappeared. my time in the void and my battle against the Court had left me diseased. I was wasting away, and I knew this was my penance.

I spent the next few centuries walking the world, discovering and learning and hiding. I had come to understand that my life would not end on its own, so I determined to protect others lives for as long as I could. once in a great while I would return to Albion, disguised as a traveler. But it seems that my children did not inherit my power, or even what small wisdom I had. they and their children had become petty tyrants, terrorizing the people and claiming to be 'Heroes'.

the end of my kingdom came with the completion of the Spire. a thousand years had passed since I had claimed the throne and my descendant who now sat on the Archons seat wished to remake the world as I had once done. but that kind of power I know only too well, cannot be controlled. The spire did as it was intended to do, it granted his wish. But in doing so it wiped out all of the kingdom I had built. and perhaps that was for the best.

few survived the destruction of Old Albion, but those that did became estranged from the civilization that had given them order. Anarchy fell rampant upon the isolated villages of Albion. War broke out across the land. for many years the land suffered and I could only watch.

after a long time, I was traveling in the east and came across a young mercenary and bandit called Nostro. I could tell that he was meant for greater things and so I spoke to him of his potential and of how Albion could once again have peace. Nostro agreed to help.

We returned to the heart of Albion and gathered together a band of others, who like Nostro had an affinity for greater deeds. Together they formed the Guild of Heroes, a place to train others in the ways of Will, Skill and Strength. Nostro took to it well and began to use the guild to enforce peace on Albion's warring peoples. but it was not the same as I remembered it. it never would be again.

Nostro built the Arena in Witchwood, a place to temper heroes and to settle disputes in a public forum. His Guild brought an uneasy but lasting peace to Albion for many years. but over time I saw my friend become corrupted. those around him, especially that witch, began to influence his decisions more and more. the Arena became a public entertainment, the Guild became a group of thuggish mercenaries whose sole concern was for profit.

I departed for the east for many years, and explored the mysteries of those lands. but my heart was always in Albion. Nostro told me on his deathbed that he regretted his foolishness in allowing others to direct him. he asked my forgiveness, and though I myself had wrought far greater destruction, I gave it. he died alone except for me, the only friend he had left. and I buried him myself. the guild continued for many years as it had under Nostro, till eventually a couple of young Mages, Weaver and Maze determined to redirect the Guild's priorities. they overthrew the old leadership and crafted a new code for the Guild: Choose your own Destiny. Heroes would be held accountable by the people of Albion. I found Weaver to be a very amiable man, prone to a bit of understatement, but wise. Maze I never trusted. he seemed to be a coward. and I was right.

I would often assist the Guild in these times, especially during the War of the Churches, which was ended but never resolved. soon after I departed to the north to explore rumors of dark magic's stirring there. I did not return for nearly two centuries. many things took place of which I have no knowledge, but I have been told that a descendant of the First Archon destroyed Jack. Truly and completely, as I had not. I expected to be free, to pass on. but I found that my immortality continued. and so do I.


End file.
